


Heavily Inked

by IheartJack0023



Category: One Piece
Genre: F/M, Literature, Romance, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-09-18 02:50:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9362963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IheartJack0023/pseuds/IheartJack0023
Summary: After losing both Ace and Whitebeard at Marineford, Marco becomes a broken man. Only one person can help him rise from the ashes. [Marco x OC]





	1. Chapter 1

She couldn't believe it. She didn't want to believe it. Her eyes scanned the front page of the newspaper over and over again. There was no way that Whitebeard, one of the strongest pirates in the world, was dead. She felt tears began to well up in her eyes. According to the newspaper, Ace was also a victim of the bloodshed at Marineford. She felt a lump rise up in her throat.

"He was still so young," she thought as a few tears slipped down her cheeks.

It was quiet. Most people were still asleep in their beds since it was still early in the morning, but Josie had always been an early riser. She stood on her porch, newspaper in hand, as the reality of the situation hit her and sobs racked her body.

"Those damn marines," she said to herself as she looked over to her left. Her house was by the docks of the quaint island that she called home. Right next to it, on a tall pole, flew a black flag—on it was a skull white a whitebeard above its mouth. It was Whitebeard's jolly roger; it served as a warning to other pirates. It said that this island was under the protection of the great emperor of the sea.

"Not anymore," Josie thought to herself. Her heart ached as she remembered all the times that she had spent with Whitebeard and his crew. It would never be the same. She sniffled as she let her tears subside.

"Marco," she whispered to herself as she wiped away the fallen tears. She turned to look to her right—to the docks and the open ocean. "I can't imagine what you must be going through right now," she said to herself.  
He had been closer to the two than she was. They were his family—his brother and father. And he had just lost them both at once. And she knew, as well, that he still wasn't fully over Thatch's death yet. He couldn't have been—not the way he was; not the way that she knew him to be. She hoped that for his sake, this was not something else that he would try to keep in.

"Please be okay," she whispered.

She wanted to call the man. She could have. She had the means to: a den den mushi and his number. But she thought that perhaps now wasn't the best time. Perhaps she should wait. Perhaps he should give him some more time.

In the meantime, she thought, I should help prepare the town. She may not have been a pirate, but she knew pirates so she knew that Whitebeard's death would only cause chaos, especially on an island that was Whitebeard's territory—had been his territory for a good two decades. It wouldn't be long before pirates showed up with the idea that, with the great pirate now dead, this island would be ripe for looting. She had to protect the island. And she had to protect that jolly roger. Dead or not, she would not let anyone disrespect the man by removing his flag.

***

He was devastated. His heart was aching in a way that his Phoenix fire couldn't heal. His family was falling apart at the death of their brother and father: Ace and Whitebeard. Their crew’s head had been cut off and now they were just writhing around, covered in tears.

He couldn't help but blame himself. He should have been paying more attention to his captain, he thought. He should have taken the blow instead. Unlike his captain, he could have healed. He should have been paying more attention to Ace too. His brother, Luffy, had freed him from his sea stone handcuffs, but Marco should have known better. He should have known that he shouldn’t have let his guard down because of that.

"If someone had to die," thought Marco, "it should have been me."

He was racked with guilt and grief and the responsibility of his remaining crew. He had let a few tears fall back at Marineford, but that was it. He appeared to be coping well on the outside, but, on the inside, he felt so heavily weighed down. As if he was sinking in the merciless ocean that he was so used to sailing on.  
Marco let his eyes travel over the graves of his two fallen comrades. He was glad that they were able to leave with the bodies. He may have not been too fond of the red-haired emperor, but right then he was grateful that Shanks had shown up. It was because of him that they were able to take the bodies and give them the proper burial that the two men deserved.

"We'll be taking our leave now," spoke up a voice from behind him. Marco turned around to see Shanks—the frown on his face looked out of place on the perpetually smiling pirate. Marco nodded at the red-haired man and thanked him for what he had done for them. Shanks said one final thing before he left—something that completely caught Marco off-guard.

"I know what it's like to lose your captain," said the red-haired man. "But don't let it consume you. If you need to step away, then do it." And then he walked away, leaving Marco to his thoughts.

"Could I really do that?" he thought. "Could I just leave? Everyone else needs me." He looked over at his mourning crewmates—some with tears still streaming down their faces, others with only tear stains and red eyes left behind, but they all shared one thing: the look of utter devastation that littered their faces. They were all broken men right now.

"But what could I do for them?" He thought. "Do they really need me?" Marco looked away from his crewmates and up at the sky. He realized that he didn't want to be there. He was hurting too and watching everyone else in pain was not helping him. He wondered if he should heed the red-haired pirate's advice. Maybe he should leave. At least for a little bit. Maybe it would do them all some good. Maybe they all needed their own time to grieve. Maybe they all needed to remind themselves of what good was left in the world for them.

"But where would I go?" He thought to himself. "Where do I wanna be?" He closed his eyes and immediately pictured a certain island, which he knew held a certain woman on it that would be waiting for him—like she always had. He wondered if she had seen the news. She wasn't a Whitebeard pirate, but she was still family. Their deaths would affect her too.

He thought about her soft skin and her warmth. He thought about her dark hair and bright eyes. He thought about her radiant smile and, with a deep breath, he made a decision.


	2. Chapter 2

She couldn't believe it. She didn't want to believe it. Her eyes scanned the front page of the newspaper over and over again. There was no way that Whitebeard, one of the strongest pirates in the world, was dead. She felt tears began to well up in her eyes. According to the newspaper, Ace was also a victim of the bloodshed at Marineford. She felt a lump rise up in her throat.

"He was still so young," she thought as a few tears slipped down her cheeks.

It was quiet. Most people were still asleep in their beds since it was still early in the morning, but Josie had always been an early riser. She stood on her porch, newspaper in hand, as the reality of the situation hit her and sobs racked her body.

"Those damn marines," she said to herself as she looked over to her left. Her house was by the docks of the quaint island that she called home. Right next to it, on a tall pole, flew a black flag—on it was a skull white a whitebeard above its mouth. It was Whitebeard's jolly roger; it served as a warning to other pirates. It said that this island was under the protection of the great emperor of the sea.

"Not anymore," Josie thought to herself. Her heart ached as she remembered all the times that she had spent with Whitebeard and his crew. It would never be the same. She sniffled as she let her tears subside.

"Marco," she whispered to herself as she wiped away the fallen tears. She turned to look to her right—to the docks and the open ocean. "I can't imagine what you must be going through right now," she said to herself.  
He had been closer to the two than she was. They were his family—his brother and father. And he had just lost them both at once. And she knew, as well, that he still wasn't fully over Thatch's death yet. He couldn't have been—not the way he was; not the way that she knew him to be. She hoped that for his sake, this was not something else that he would try to keep in.

"Please be okay," she whispered.

She wanted to call the man. She could have. She had the means to: a den den mushi and his number. But she thought that perhaps now wasn't the best time. Perhaps she should wait. Perhaps he should give him some more time.

In the meantime, she thought, I should help prepare the town. She may not have been a pirate, but she knew pirates so she knew that Whitebeard's death would only cause chaos, especially on an island that was Whitebeard's territory—had been his territory for a good two decades. It wouldn't be long before pirates showed up with the idea that, with the great pirate now dead, this island would be ripe for looting. She had to protect the island. And she had to protect that jolly roger. Dead or not, she would not let anyone disrespect the man by removing his flag.

***

He was devastated. His heart was aching in a way that his Phoenix fire couldn't heal. His family was falling apart at the death of their brother and father: Ace and Whitebeard. Their crew’s head had been cut off and now they were just writhing around, covered in tears.

He couldn't help but blame himself. He should have been paying more attention to his captain, he thought. He should have taken the blow instead. Unlike his captain, he could have healed. He should have been paying more attention to Ace too. His brother, Luffy, had freed him from his sea stone handcuffs, but Marco should have known better. He should have known that he shouldn’t have let his guard down because of that.

"If someone had to die," thought Marco, "it should have been me."

He was racked with guilt and grief and the responsibility of his remaining crew. He had let a few tears fall back at Marineford, but that was it. He appeared to be coping well on the outside, but, on the inside, he felt so heavily weighed down. As if he was sinking in the merciless ocean that he was so used to sailing on.  
Marco let his eyes travel over the graves of his two fallen comrades. He was glad that they were able to leave with the bodies. He may have not been too fond of the red-haired emperor, but right then he was grateful that Shanks had shown up. It was because of him that they were able to take the bodies and give them the proper burial that the two men deserved.

"We'll be taking our leave now," spoke up a voice from behind him. Marco turned around to see Shanks—the frown on his face looked out of place on the perpetually smiling pirate. Marco nodded at the red-haired man and thanked him for what he had done for them. Shanks said one final thing before he left—something that completely caught Marco off-guard.

"I know what it's like to lose your captain," said the red-haired man. "But don't let it consume you. If you need to step away, then do it." And then he walked away, leaving Marco to his thoughts.

"Could I really do that?" he thought. "Could I just leave? Everyone else needs me." He looked over at his mourning crewmates—some with tears still streaming down their faces, others with only tear stains and red eyes left behind, but they all shared one thing: the look of utter devastation that littered their faces. They were all broken men right now.

"But what could I do for them?" He thought. "Do they really need me?" Marco looked away from his crewmates and up at the sky. He realized that he didn't want to be there. He was hurting too and watching everyone else in pain was not helping him. He wondered if he should heed the red-haired pirate's advice. Maybe he should leave. At least for a little bit. Maybe it would do them all some good. Maybe they all needed their own time to grieve. Maybe they all needed to remind themselves of what good was left in the world for them.

"But where would I go?" He thought to himself. "Where do I wanna be?" He closed his eyes and immediately pictured a certain island, which he knew held a certain woman on it that would be waiting for him—like she always had. He wondered if she had seen the news. She wasn't a Whitebeard pirate, but she was still family. Their deaths would affect her too.

He thought about her soft skin and her warmth. He thought about her dark hair and bright eyes. He thought about her radiant smile and, with a deep breath, he made a decision.


	3. Chapter 3

[15 Years Earlier]

The Whitebeard pirates were back on Cirrane Island—Whitebeard, having grown to like the island, it’s inhabitants, and it’s alcohol, had placed the island under his protection five years prior, and they had been visiting the island on a yearly basis, ever since.

Marco was anxious to be back on the island where he had gotten his tattoo—or rather, he was anxious to see Josie again. They had grown close over the past few years even if they had only been able to see each other for a limited period of time about once a year.

“Ready to go see your lover?” Thatch asked Marco as soon as they docked. Marco ignored the man. His friend has never stopped teasing him about his attachment to the resident tattoo artist and Marco had learned that responding to him in anyway would only ever fuel him on. Marco was glad that Josie lived by the docks. It meant that he could see her right away, assuming she wasn’t out running errands.

Josie was reading a book when she heard the bell to her shop ring. She looked up and was overjoyed to see Marco and Thatch. She dropped her book on the counter and ran over to the two. She hugged the two of them, though she hugged Marco for longer. Marco sighed softly at her touch.

“You guys gonna get a tattoo this time?” she asked.

“You’re always so eager for that. Not even gonna ask us how we are first?” teased Marco.

“Okay. Okay. Sorry. How are you guys? You guys feeling like getting tattoos?” she asked with a grin. Marco rolled his eyes at her.

“We’re great,” said Thatch. “But no more tattoos for Marco.” Marco gave his friend a sharp look. He needed to shut up. This is not how he wanted her to find out.

“Why not?” she asked, looking between the two pirates.

“Thatch,” Marco warned.

“Birdbrain here ate a devil fruit,” continued Thatch as he laughed at his own joke. Marco sent him a glare.

“What does that have to do with tattoos?” asked Josie. “Devil fruit users can still get tattoos. Even logias.” Marco sighed.

“It heals me,” clarified Marco.

“That’s horrible!” she shouted. “I mean, that’s really cool, but like—no more tattoos is horrible!” Josie paused for a moment. “Ah. This means you can’t swim anymore though.” Marco nodded. “What devil fruit was it anyway?”

“A mythical zoan.”

“Mythical?”

“I’m a phoenix now,” Josie was silent with eyes wide for a few moments before she rushed over to the counter and pulled out a sketchpad.

“Okay, but seriously, that is really, really cool. And that gives me an idea for a tattoo,” she said as she started to sketch something. “Wait,” she said as she paused what she was doing. “Can I see your phoenix form? Please?”

Marco was still surprised over her outburst. He hadn’t expected her to react so positively. People often looked down on devil fruit users especially civilians. He hadn’t expected Josie to be outright against the thought, but he also hadn’t expected her to be so enthused about it; at this rate, she may have been more excited than him about his newfound abilities.

“One condition,” he said holding up his right index finger.

“What?” asked Josie.

“Fight me,” Josie groaned in response. Every time he had come to visit, he had challenged her to a fight and every time she had refused. Marco wanted to know how strong she was, but she didn’t want to give in to the man’s requests or sate his curiosity.

“I don’t want to,” she said.

“The only way you’ll see it is in action,” said Marco with a smirk on his face. He knew he had finally won. The two held eye contact for a few moments, a pout on Josie’s lips and a smirk on Marco’s.

“Fine,” she finally conceded with a fight. “But not today! Tomorrow. In the morning. Before breakfast. Outside the town.” Marco was more than happy to agree.

***

Marco arrived at the area that he and Josie would be fighting only to see the rest of his crew there. He hadn’t expected an audience, but he had a feeling Thatch had gone and told everyone about their fight. His eyes quickly flew over to Josie’s form who was stretching on the grass. She was wearing a tank top and short shorts. He was surprised because she always seemed to keep her legs covered. He let his eyes wander down them, noticing only two tattoos on them—one on her right thigh and one on her left calf; seeing the blank skin on her seemed incredibly out of place to him, though. He watched her as she got up and grabbed a metal pole that had been lying beside her.

“Go easy on me, won’t ya, Chicken Little?” Marco sent her a glare as she smirked at him. “I ain’t as strong as you’d like to thing,” she added a little more seriously. She knew haki, yes. And her control over busoshoku haki was incredible. She knew that, but that was about the extent of her power. Her kenbunshoku haki was mediocre at best as was her fighting skill in general. A pirate had taught her everything she knew, but she wasn’t a pirate herself. She wasn’t out on the seas encountering stronger enemies each time. She had no need to get stronger.

Marco watched her as she covered the pole in her busoshoku haki, strengthening it. She took a defensive stance and waited for him to attack. When he finally did, she was able to dodge his attacks with the use of her kenbunshoku haki and eventually hit him with the pole, which sent him flying across the grassy field that they were on. She watched him get up off the floor and flame cover where she had hit him. It took her a moment to realize that the flames had healed him.

“Okay, okay, hold on,” she said. “That is totally cool and I’m kinda jealous but that is so not fair!”

They returned to their fight and continued to exchange blows. Josie dodged Marco’s attacks as best as she could but her kenbunshoku haki was not good enough to keep up with his speed. Eventually, she shouted at him frustrated that she was fighting him like she had agreed but that he had yet to show her his phoenix form. He obliged her and transformed fully, which left her in awe. And then she was defeated, but she didn’t mind. She spent the rest of the day with a grin across her face, excited over Marco’s power.

“I’m so going to get a tattoo of a Phoenix,” she had told him later on. “And it’ll be blue like yours!” Marco liked the sound of that. He liked the idea of her having something related to him permanently on her body. He liked the idea of her having something that was a part of her that would remind her of him every time that she looked at it. But he didn’t tell her that.

“What happened to not getting a tattoo on a whim?” was what he said instead.

“Don’t be an idiot,” she replied. “I’m not going to go and get it right now. I’ll let the idea sit in my head for a while before I go and actually get something inked on my skin. When you come back next year, I still won’t have it.” 

Marco couldn’t stop the small smile that crossed his face as she talked. He enjoyed this. He enjoyed this spending time with her, this talking to her, this simply being in her presence. He hated having to leave every time. He hated having to say goodbye. But he couldn’t stay. That wasn’t the kind of man that he was. So he enjoyed it while he could. It was like a prize he got once a year. Like a birthday present, except not on his birthday. And he hoped that she felt the same.


	4. Chapter 4

[10 Years Earlier]

“Anything I should know about?” Josie asked the blond pirate that sat in her kitchen. It was late in the evening. Josie had closed her shop and started making dinner when she had heard a knock on her door. She was surprised but ecstatic to see her favorite pirate standing in the doorway.

“Well, I may or may not have been promoted to be the commander of the first division,” he said nonchalantly. Josie dropped the spoon that she had been using to stir what she had been cooking before turning around to face the pirate.

“What?!” she exclaimed. “That’s—well, that’s great. Hah. Marco the Phoenix. Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates. Oh, you’ve come a long way.”

She let herself take a long look at the man in front of her. She had known him for about a decade now. They didn’t get to see each other much, but it was enough to make her fall for the man. When they met, she had found him attractive and that was that. But somewhere along the line it had grown into more. Somewhere along the line she had found herself hurting every time that he had to leave and longing for him to come back. And every time that he did come back, it’s like he made everything brighter. Of course, when she had finally realized when she was in love with the man some years back, she knew that she was screwed. Marco was not a bad guy. No. But he was a pirate. And, good or not, pirates are not the kind of people that you fall in love with because pirates always leave. In response to this realization she had tried to make herself move on. She had tried to become romantically involved with other men, but every time was a failure. Either he wasn’t tall enough or his hair wasn’t blond enough or his muscles weren’t toned enough or—they just weren’t him. She always found herself comparing them to him and it ruined her. He had ruined her.

“Is that why you decided to change your look?” she asked him. She was referring to the fact that he had changed out his purple button-up to a jacket, though still left open so that his chest and the tattoo on it were both visible.

“I needed a look to match my title,” he replied.

“And a jacket screams commander?” she questioned with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. She laughed lightly as she turned back around to tend to the food on the stove.

“Are you hungry?” she asked him.

“Starving,” he responded.

Marco watched the woman as she moved around the kitchen. The scene before him was so domestic that it left Marco wanting for a moment. He wondered what it would feel like to settle down. To come to a house that he could call home everyday and be greeted by woman—by her. Is that what he wanted? No, he told himself as he thought about the smell of being out at sea and the singing of his crewmates. But then he thought about waking up with a warm body next to him—one with black hair cascading down her back. No, he told himself again as his mouth set itself into a frown. He couldn’t give her what she wanted. He was a pirate. She would have to settle down with some other man, but it burned him to think about that. The thought of another man caressing her skin and running his hands through her hair left a bad taste in his mouth and a burning feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“If I can help it,” he thought, “I won’t let another man touch her.” He knew that he was being selfish, but he was allowed to be, right? It was in his nature, after all. He was a pirate and pirates were selfish. They took whatever treasure they wanted whenever they wanted it. But she wasn’t just some piece of gold. He knew that. He couldn’t keep her locked up in a room with other treasures. He had to let her be free. No matter how much it killed him on the inside.


	5. Chapter 5

[5 Years Earlier]

Marco wasn’t sure why it had taken him so long to realize it. Had he been in denial? Thatch had brought it up several times.

“Just admit,” he would say, “the way you feel about her.” And Marco would always give him some smart-ass answer. He would never admit to any romantic feelings, which is what he knew his friend wanted him to do. But then came a day that he couldn’t deny it anymore. It was a usual day. They had docked on some island to get supplies and he and Thatch had gone off to find themselves some pretty women to relieve their frustrations. But when the time came, Marco found himself not only imagining the woman’s black hair belonging to another, but also moaning out another woman’s name: Josie’s. In the end, Marco’s brain went into shock. Shock at the realization—or rather his inability to deny it anymore. He’d be damned, but he was in love with the green-eyed woman from Cirrane Island. And he didn’t know what to do about it.

Thatch had pointed out to him a while back that he always went for the same kind of woman.

“I just have a type, that’s all,” was what Marco had said. And it wasn’t a lie. His type just happened to be women that reminded him of her—women with black hair and women with tattoos. The tattoos were always able to reel him in.

When it came time for them to go to Cirrane Island again, he was filled with dread. He wondered if he should even go see her. What would he even say? He knew that he couldn’t just avoid her though. Once she knew that the Whitebeard pirates had docked on her island, she would seek him out if he didn’t find her first. So once they made port, he took a deep breath and made his way to her home.

When he had arrived at her shop, the door had been open, but it was empty, which he found strange. He made his way up the stairs to the second floor where she lived. He stopped in his tracks when he heard laughter and then two different voices—one he immediately recognized as Josie’s but the second was foreign to his ears. He followed the sound to the kitchen where he found her leaning against the kitchen’s countertop in nothing but a large t-shirt that went up to her mid-thigh and a mug in her hand. At the small kitchen table sat a man whose blond hair was tousled with a satisfied smirk on his face.

Marco felt something tug at his heart and then he felt anger seep into it. He was no idiot. He knew this image. He had often found himself in the man’s position. She had, obviously, slept with the man and that bothered Marco.

He entered the kitchen and cleared his throat to sound his arrival. The two that had been conversing, stopped as they looked over at him. Marco watched as the gentle smile that had been on Josie’s face turned into a full grin at seeing him. She quickly put the mug down and trotted over to embrace him tightly. He reveled in the moment, breathing in her scent as much as he could and then he caught the eyes of the other man who sent a glare his eyes. Marco returned the glare. Josie was his and he would make damn sure that this man would know that before he had to leave. Marco sighed as she ended the embrace and turned around to look at the man.

“I’m so sorry. But can we call it a day here?” she asked him. “I know we planned to spend the day together, but Marco only comes once a year and he only ever stays for so long.” Marco watched as the man’s eyes flickered between Josie and himself; he wondered if the man knew who he was.

“Of course,” said the man as he got up from his chair. “Whatever you want, as long as you’re happy,” he said the last part while sending Marco another glare. It was meant to be a warning, Marco could tell. The man was telling him that he was what made her happy and for a moment Marco couldn’t help but think that he was right. Josie’s grin may have been bigger when Marco was around, but what did that matter when he was only able to bring it onto her face once a year? But he thought that only for a moment.

The two spent most of their together, as they usually did whenever Marco came to the island, but, as always, the time for him to go came sooner than liked for both of them. Marco never liked leaving her behind, but now it bothered him more than usual because he didn’t want to leave her behind to another man.

“Have you ever thought about becoming a pirate?” he asked her the day before he left.

“Yea,” she replied.

“Why don’t you? I’m sure Pops would be glad to have you on his crew. And then we wouldn’t have to say goodbye.” Josie sent him a smile before sighing.

“Have you ever thought about retiring? Settling down on land?” she asked him. Marco averted his gaze. “You love the sea, don’t you?” she questioned. Marco turned back to look at her with a questioning look before nodding.

“I don’t like the sea,” she said. “I prefer to be on land. Being on a ship, well, it makes me feel trapped.” Marco frowned. They didn’t need to exchange any more words to understand what the other felt. There was a silent agreement that they loved each other, but that it could never work. Yet, Marco couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t help but claim what was his—what he wanted to be his.

“I always hate when we have to say goodbye,” she had said.

“It’s not a goodbye. It’s a see you later,” he had told her. They embraced, holding onto each other for a long time, her grip on him only getting tighter as time passed, until she finally released it. He trailed the hands that had been on her back up to her cheeks and, holding her face in his hands, pressed his lips against hers. She tasted so sweet and Marco just knew that those lips of hers were something that he could get addicted to.

Josie was caught by surprise. After the silent understanding passed between them that a relationship between them could not work, she had lost all hope in ever getting to feel his lips against hers. Yet, here she was. The kiss didn’t last long—or, at least, not as long as she had wanted it to. And then he left with nothing else but a grin shot her way. Josie was left feeling like she was floating on air, but eventually she had to come crashing down. That happened when she saw the man that she had been dating, and that she had been neglecting while Marco was there. She internally cursed Marco. She knew that there was no way that she could keep pretending that she was happy with this man anymore so she didn’t. She ended things with the man—all because of that stupid, wonderful kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

[2 Years Earlier]

Marco was leaning against the railing of the Moby Dick, looking up at the sky, when Thatch ran up to him.

“Oi! Marco!” he shouted to grab the first commander’s attention. He looked over at his longtime friend questioningly.

“Guess where we’re headed?” he said with a grin. A smirk crossed Marco’s face, knowing that his friend would only be this eager to inform him of their destination if they were going to one place.

“A tropical island?” questioned the second division commander that was seated by Marco. Marco shook his head.

“Tell me, Ace,” he asked the younger man. “Have you ever thought about getting a tattoo?”

***

Josie perked up when she heard the bell to her shop ring. She looked over at the doorway and felt her heart leap when she saw the familiar blond head of hair and purple jacket.

“Marco!” she shouted, making her way toward him and embracing him warmly.

“I brought you a customer,” he told her. She looked over to the other man, not having realized that he was there initially. Marco had a way of capturing her full attention when he was around.

“Oh, hey. You’re new!” she told him as she took in his boyish appearance. “Welcome to Josie’s Tattoo Parlor. I’m Josie.”

“I’m Ace,” he said with a toothy grin.

“He’s new, but he’s already a commander,” said Marco. Josie’s mouth dropped open slightly.

“What?!” she shouted. “Already? How? You must be crazy strong then, huh? It took Marco like forever to become a commander. You’ll definitely surpass him then. Oh, this is so exciting!”

Marco couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face at her ecstatic babbling. He had missed this. He had missed her. So much.

Ace looked on in curiosity. He wasn’t exactly sure what this woman was to the Whitebeard pirates, but there was something in the way that his fellow commander was looking at her. He looked at her like she was the most important thing in that room—or maybe in more than just that room.

“Alright,” said Josie. “You’re gonna get a tattoo?” she asked him. “I’m basically the Whitebeard pirates’ unofficial honorary tattoo artist. I’ve been doing tattoos for these guys for almost two decades now. I was the one that did Marco’s, actually.”

Ace briefly looked over at Marco’s tattoo before looking back at the woman and letting his eyes take in just exactly how heavily covered in tattoos she was.

“Wait,” said Ace. “Almost how long? How old are you?” Then he turned over to Marco. “How old are YOU?” The two of them just looked at each other and smirked.

“Alright,” said Josie. “Come here, freckles. You want the whitebeard symbol?”

“Hey, don’t call me that!” retorted Ace, but Josie just laughed it off. The two talked over what Ace wanted and he decided on getting the symbol of his new captain on his back.

“You have so many tattoos,” Ace had brought up at a point.

“And I’m proud of every single one,” said Josie.

“How many do you even have? Is there actually even any skin that isn’t covered?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know,” she replied and sent a wink his way. The two laughed at their own silliness. But when Ace stopped laughing, his eyes met Marco’s, which were sending a warning his way. Ace simply raised an eyebrow questioningly at the man.

Once Josie had gotten everything ready to tattoo Ace, she sent Marco away claiming that he would distract her because his presence was distracting. He reluctantly obliged and left, but not without sending Ace another warning look. A look that told him that he should be careful with what he did and said. About halfway through the large tattoo, Josie stopped for a quick break and Ace decided to use their time alone with each other to get some answers.

“Umm,” he started, “is there something going on between you and Marco?” he asked her. She looked at him with a startled expression.

“Why would you ask?” she inquired.

“It’s just—the way he was looking at you; and earlier, he gave me a look like I should back off.”

“How was he looking at me?” Ace noticed how her eyes were pleading, but he wasn’t sure for what. Maybe she wanted to hear a certain answer, but he didn’t know what she wanted to hear. So he just told her the truth.

“Like you lit up the room,” he told her. She sighed a heavy sigh. 

“No,” she said. “There’s nothing. There could be, but…” she trailed off. She looked up at Ace, sadness evident in her eyes. “It wouldn’t work out. He’s a pirate. He won’t stay and I won’t leave. So it wouldn’t be fair to either of us.” She forced a smile onto her face, but Ace could see the pain behind it and it broke his heart. He decided not to push the topic further and let her continue with her work in silence.  



	7. Chapter 7

[Present]

He had told everyone to go their own ways. He had told them that they all needed some time. He had told them to wait for a message from him. Marco had, essentially, temporarily disbanded the Whitebeard pirates, leaving them with an uncertain future. He had, soon afterward, made his way to Cirrane Island alone. When he arrived there he saw the woman he loved beating up some pirates. It was just as Marco had thought—with his captain’s death pirates had become cocky. Without Whitebeard’s name and the fear that it struck acting as a buffer between reckless pirates and certain islands, there would be bloodshed. Marco wasn’t sure if he cared at that moment, though. He was starting to feel numb.

She shouted his name when she saw him. She brought him to her home and sat him down. He felt horrible. Like he was dying on the inside. He didn’t even want to move. Time didn’t really seem to exist anymore and things started to get hazy. He kept seeing her emerald eyes. He kept focusing in on them. They were filled with so much worry—should he have bothered to come, he thought. He would just burden her, he thought.

Then he felt something hit his face—hard. He blinked several times as time started to move again. He looked over at Josie who was biting her lip in worry. She had slapped him he realized. It had stung.

“Marco,” she said. “Are you—”

“I’m fine,” he responded monotonously. She shook her head.

“No. I know you’re not fine. I was going to ask if you were hungry. Or would you rather go to sleep? You probably haven’t been taking proper care of yourself. When was the last time you showered?” She continued to hover over him like a mother hen and she let him. Because this was what he needed. He needed to not have to worry—to not have the responsibility of other people weighing down on his shoulders. Here, in this home, he knew that he could relax because she could take care of him as well as herself.

That night, she let him share her bed—not intimately, but emotionally. He wallowed in the warmth and felt grateful for the comfort that she provided him every time he woke up in the middle of the night from having relived the deaths of his father and brother. She would run her fingers through his hair and hum a lullaby until he fell back asleep. He could tell, though, that the lack of sleep that these nightmares were causing was affecting her as much as it was affecting him.

“Please, Marco,” she had said one day while they sat together in bed. “Talk to me. You’ve got to stop holding this in. It isn’t good for you. The nightmares will only get worse and—”

“No.”

“No?!”

“I’m not holding anything in. I’m fine.”

“Like hell you are! No, Marco. I will not keep doing this! I will not watch you continue to dig yourself into a hole that you won’t be able to get out of. Tell me, why did Ace and Whitebeard die?” Marco frowned at the question.

“Because I couldn’t protect them,” he said. Josie shook her head.

“They didn’t expect that from you, Marco. They were both so strong. And they knew that. That’s why they died. They died using the strength that they knew they had to protect their family. You know the kind of men that they were, Marco. Please…”

“You don’t know anything! You weren’t there! You didn’t see what happened!” he shouted. Josie’s eyes widened. She could see a rage bubbling over inside Marco. It was terrifying, but it was also relieving. He needed to let it all out. And if the only way to do that was to make him explode then so be it.

“I should have done something. I can heal myself for crying out loud. I should have been more attentive. If I would have taken the attacks then—then—” but he didn’t finish. He broke out into sobs so powerful that he couldn’t speak. Josie immediately rushed to his side and wrapped her arms around him. He returned the embrace, only holding her much tighter. He dug his fingers into her back so deeply that she knew that it would bruise, but she didn’t mind because she knew that whatever pain he was feeling was so much worse. She let him cry his heart out—until he fell asleep. She hoped that he would feel better in the morning.

***

The following morning, Marco woke up feeling exhausted. He wondered why until he remembered what had happened that previous night; then he knew exactly why he felt so exhausted. He looked over at the woman beside him as the sunlight streamed in through the window and bounced off of her skin. He didn’t deserve her, he thought. After everything he’s put her through, he didn’t deserve her or the light that she radiated. But dammit if he wasn’t selfish because he couldn’t keep his eyes or hands off of her.

He started to trace the different tattoos that littered her skin with his fingers, lightly enough to not wake her up. He stopped when he got to a bright blue one on her thigh, visible because of the shorts that she had decided to wear to bed that night. She had shown him the design for the tattoo, a few years back, much later than he had expected to see it. By the time that she had shown it to him, in fact, he had thought that she had given up on wanting it as a tattoo. He wondered when she got it. Was it years back and she had neglected to tell him? Or maybe it was recently, he thought, and she hadn’t gotten the chance to see him until now.

He traced the different shades of blue that shaped the feathers of a mighty bird: a phoenix, one that looked just like his.

“Sorry,” he heard her mumble. He switched his gaze from the woman’s tattoo to her eyes. They weren’t fully open yet. “I never told you. It just never felt like the right moment.” Marco remained silent as he looked back down at the tattoo. When she didn’t say anything else, he thought that she might have fallen back asleep, but when he looked over at her face, her eyes were wide open and staring at him. He furrowed his brows.

“Why?” he said, his voice scratchy and stiff. “Why did you get it?” he asked as he continued to run his fingers across the phoenix tattoo.

“Because phoenixes are cool. Because they’re always reborn from their ashes. Because they’re always okay. I like what they symbolize,” she said. “But also,” she hesitated, “because I love you and that love will never die and this is my way of expressing it.” After she realized that Marco wasn’t going to say anything in response, she asked him how he was feeling.

“Tired,” he croaked out.

“But?” she asked. “Is there a but? Beside the cute one behind you,” she added with a soft smile. Marco couldn’t help but return it slightly.

“But better. I feel lighter. Like a weight’s been lifted off of me. Like I can finally relax.”

“I told you that it was bad to keep it in.”

This was nice, thought Marco. Laying in bed with a woman he loved, who loved him back, with the sun warming them through the window and no responsibilities to think about. He could get used to this—to this feeling of safety and calm. Maybe, he thought to himself.  



	8. Chapter 8

[A Few Weeks After]

Marco awoke to an empty bed, but the smell of a wonderful breakfast. He got up and groggily made his way over to the kitchen. He went straight for the woman by the stove once he spotted her, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his face into the back of her neck.

“Ah!” she shouted. “The food’s gonna burn if you don’t let go!” Marco let out a soft chuckle and let go of the woman so that she could move freely. He smiled as he watched her set up their breakfast.

It had taken time, but Marco felt like he was finally on the road to recovery. It still hurt to think about his fallen father and brother, but he had gotten past the stage of blaming himself. He understood that he could not have done anything to prevent it. And he knew that, at least, that I hadn’t died unfulfilled. His captain had lived a long and happy life, having sailed the seas for several years. And Ace had died knowing that his brother was safe and that he had a large family that loved him deeply.

It had taken time, but Marco felt better and it was all because of the woman who sat before him.

“I’ve decided what I’m going to do,” he said. Josie immediately perked up at the statement. She was glad that he finally felt well enough to make this decision, but at the same time she didn’t want him to leave again.

“Are you going to call for a family reunion?” she asked.

“Yes and no,” he said. Josie gave him a questioning look.

“Well, we can’t be the Whitebeard pirates without Whitebeard so I’m…” he hesitated, “I’m going to disband the Whitebeard pirates permanently.”

“What?!”

“It’s what makes the most sense. We’ll all still be connected. We’ll still be family. We’ll be separated. No doubt smaller crews will start to form amongst the remaining members if that hasn’t started to happen already, but we’ll be there for each other. At least that’s I hope it turns out.”

“But—but that’s your family! I don’t understand. What do YOU plan to do then? Start your own pirate crew? Oh, you can be the Phoenix Pirates! Or is that name already taken? I feel like it would be.”

“Who said I planned to leave?” Josie furrowed her eyebrows as she stared intently at the man before him. Why wouldn’t he leave? He loved the sea.

“About family,” he started, “I was thinking I can just have one right here.” Josie furrowed her eyebrows even more, confusion filling her face. She tried her best to read the face of the man in front of her so that she could understand what he was talking about. And then she understood and her eyes widened. A blush crossed her face.

“Marco, you idiot,” she said. “You can’t just go deciding things like that on your own.” He sent her a grin and it filled Josie with such warmth because it had been far too long since she had seen that grin. Just like a phoenix, she thought, he was rising from the ashes.


	9. Chapter 9

[5 Years After]

“Momma! Momma!” shouted a little blond boy who appeared to be about four years old.

“Yes, Thatch?” replied his mother who had just finished sweeping the front of their broom. In her left hand she held the broom that she had been using while her right hand rested on her round belly.

“Do you think Ace will join my pirate crew?” asked the boy. The mother smiled at the boy’s ambitions. She looked down at her stomach wondering what kind of person her next baby boy would be.

“I don’t know, sweetie. Maybe your brother might not even want to be a pirate,” she said.

“What? Why wouldn’t he? Pirates are the coolest! I’m gonna be like gramps!” said Thatch as he looked up at the jolly roger that was flown next to their home. It was a skull with a white beard on it. The green-eyed woman laughed.

“Not like your father?”

“But poppa wasn’t an emperor of the sea!” he shouted.

“I didn’t know we raised an ungrateful brat,” spoke up a new voice. The little boy’s face lit up.

“Poppa! Poppa!” he shouted as he ran toward the man whose hair his own resembled. “Do you think Ace will join my crew?”

“I don’t know, kid. What if he wants to be a captain too?” Thatch’s eyes widened. He hadn’t considered that as an option.

“He’s not allowed!” exclaimed the boy. “I’m the older brother!” The two adults laughed at the little boy as he pouted.

Josie looked over at Marco, observing the relaxed grin on his face as he continued to talk with his son. The Phoenix had crashed and burned, but he rose from his ashes, just as she knew he would.  



End file.
